HT> 

8070 

E9 


UC-NRLF 


SB    Sfll    IE  2 


LECTURE 


ON    THE 


WORKING  MEN'S  PARTY, 


FIRST  DELIVERED  OCTOBER  SIXTH, 


BEFORE  THE  CHARLESTOWN  LYCEUM, 


AND 


at  tjjefr  3EUqueHt, 


BY   EDWARD    EVERETT. 
it 


BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED      BY     GRAY      AND      BOWEN. 
1830. 


DISTRICT    OF    MASSACHUSETTS,    SS. 

District   Clerk's  Office. 

Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  twenty-ninth  day  of  October.  A.  D. 

1830,  and  in  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  the   Independence  of  the  United 

-  of  America,  Gray  &  Bowen,  of  the  said  District,  have  deposited 

in    this  orifice  the  title   of  a  book,  the  right    whereof  they    claim    as 

proprietors,  in  the  words  following,  to  wit : 

'  A  Lecture  on  the  Working  Men's  Party,  first  delivered  October 
Gth,  before  the  Charlestown  Lyceum,  and  published  at  their  request. 
By  Edward  Everett.1 

In  <  ..lit'.. unit  v  to  the  Act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States,  entitled 
'  An  Act  for  the  encouragement  of  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of 
Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies, 
<lurinLr  lli"  times  therein  mentioned.'  And  also  to  an  Act,  entitled 
'  An  Act.  supplementary  to  an  Act,  entitled  an  Act  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  Learning,  by  securing  the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books, 
authors  and  proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  times  therein 
mentioned,  and  extending  the  benefits  thereof  to  (lie  arts  «t  <lesi<rnin«>. 
r,  nwl  etching  historical  and  other  prints.' 

JNO.  W.  DAVIS, 
Clerk    of  the    District   of  Massachu 


LECTURE. 


MAN  is  by  nature  an  active  being.  He  is  made  to  labor. 
His  whole  organization, — mental  and  physical, — is  that  of  a 
hard-working  being.  Of  his  mental  powers  we  have  no  con- 
ception, but  as  certain  capacities  of  intellectual  action.  His 
corporeal  faculties  are  contrived  for  the  same  end,  with  aston- 
ishing variety  of  adaptation. — Who  can  look  only  at  the  mus- 
cles of  the  hand,  and  doubt  that  man  was  made  to  work? 
Who  can  be  conscious  of  judgment,  memory,  and  reflection, 
and  doubt  that  man  was  made  to  act?  He  requires  rest,  but 
it  is  in  prder  to  invigorate  him  for  new  efforts ; — to  recruit  his 
exhausted  powers  :  and  as  if  to  show  him,  by  the  very  nature 
of  rest,  that  it  is  Means,  not  End, — that  form  of  rest,  which  is 
most  essential  and  most  grateful,  sleep,  is  attended  with  the  tem- 
porary suspension  of  the  conscious  and  active  powers.  Nature 
is  so  ordered  as  both  to  require  and  encourage  man  to  work. — 
He  is  created  with  wants,  which  cannot  be  satisfied  without 
labor;  at  the  same  time,  that  ample  provision  is  made  by 
Providence,  to  satisfy  them,  with  labor. — The  plant  springs  up 
and  grows  on  the  spot,  where  the  seed  was  cast  by  accident. 
It  is  fed  by  the  moisture,  which  saturates  the  earth  or  is  held 
suspended  in  the  air ;  and  it  brings  with  it  a  sufficient  covering 
to  protect  its  delicate  internal  structure.  It  toils  not,  neither 
doth  it  spin,  for  clothing  or  food. — But  man  is  so  created,  that, 
let  his  wants  be  as  simple  as  they  will,  he  must  labor  to  supply 
them.  If,  as  is  siiDDpsed  to  have  been  the  case  in  primitive 

Ml  SfW ;s 


ages,  he  lives  upon  acorns  and  water,  he  must  draw  the  water 
from  the  spring  ;  and  in  many  places  he  must  dig  a  well  in  the 
soil ;  and  he  must  gather  the  acorns  from  beneath  the  oak,  and 
lay  up  a  store  of  them  for  winter. — He  must,  in  most  climates, 
contrive  himself  some  kind  of  clothing  of  barks  or  skins  ;  must 
construct  some  rude  shelter ;  prepare  some  kind  of  bed,  and 
keep  up  a  fire. — In  short,  it  is  well  known,  that  those  tribes  of 
our  race,  which  are  the  least  advanced  in  civilization,  and 
whose  wants  are  the  fewest,  have  to  labor  the  hardest  for  their 
support ;  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  equally  true,  that  in  the 
most  civilized  countries,  by  far  the  greatest  amount  and  variety 
of  work  are  done  ;  so  that  the  improvement,  which  takes  place 
in  the  condition  of  man,  consists,  not  in  diminishing  the  amount 
of  labor  performed,  but  in  enabling  men  to  work  more,  or  more 
•  •nth,  in  the  same  time. — A  horde  of  savages  will  pass  a 
week  in  the  most  laborious  kinds  of  hunting ;  following  the 
chase  day  alter  day;  their  women,  if  in  company  with  them, 
their  tents  and  their  infant  children  on  their  backs ; 
and  all  be  worn  down  by  fatigue  and  famine ;  and  in  the  end 
.iaps  kill  a  bullalo.  The  same  number  of  civilized 
men  aw!  women  would  probably,  on  an  average,  have  kept 
more  steadily  at  work,  in  their  various  trades  and  occupations, 
but  with  mueh  less  exhaustion,  and  the  products  of  their  indus- 
try would  have-  been  vastly  greater ;  or  what  is  the  same  thing, 
iwir-ii  more  work  would  have  been  done. 

in  improvement,  he  would  be  enabled 

by  li;^  irtt  awl  machinery,  to  satisfy  the  primary  wants  of  life, 
with  less  labor;  and  this  may  be  thought  to  show,  at  first 
glai,'  ,iot  intended  to  be  a  working  being;  be- 

cau-  ;:  nces  in  improvement,  less  work 

'!  }>••  p'Cju'm-d  to  get  a  mere  livelihood.  But  here  we  see 
a  curious  provision  of  nature.  In  proportion  as  our  bare  natu- 
ral wants  are  satisfied,  artificial  wants,  or  civilized  wants,  show 
tin  mselves.  And  in  the  very  highest  state  of  improvement,  it 
requires  as  constant  an  exertion  to  satisfy  the  new  wants,  which 
grow  out  of  the  habits  and  tastes  of  civilized  life,  as  rt  requires 


in  savage  life,  to  satisfy  hunger  and  thirst,  and  keep  from 
freezing.  In  other  words,  the  innate  desire  of  improving  our 
condition  keeps  us  all  in  a  state  of  want.  We  cannot  be  so 
well  off,  that  we  do  not  feel  obliged  to  work,  either  to  ensure 
the  continuance  of  what  we  now  have,  or  to  increase  it. — The 
man,  whose  honest  industry  just  gives  him  a  competence,  ex- 
erts himself,  that  he  may  have  something  against  a  rainy  day  ; — 
and  how  often  do  we  not  hear  an  affectionate  father  say,  he  is 
determined  to  spare  no  pains, — to  work  in  season  and  out  of 
season, — in  order  that  his  children  may  enjoy  advantages  de- 
nied to  himself. 

In  this  way,  it  is  pretty  plain,  that  Man,  whether  viewed  in 
his  primitive  and  savage  state,  or  in  a  highly  improved  condition, 
is  a  working  being.  It  is  his  destiny, — the  law  of  his  nature, 
to  labor.  He  is  made  for  it, — and  he  cannot  live  without  it ; 
and  the  Apostle  Paul  summed  up  the  matter,  with  equal  cor- 
rectness and  point,  when  he  said,  that  "  if  any  would  not  work, 
neither  should  he  eat." 

It  is  a  good  test  of  principles  like  these,  to  bring  them  to  the 
standard  of  general  approbation  or  disapprobation.  There  are, 
in  all  countries,  too  many  persons,  who  from  mistaken  ideas  of 
the  nature  of  happiness,  or  other  less  reputable  causes,  pass 
their  time  in  idleness,  or  in  indolent  pleasures  ;  but  I  believe  no 
state  of  society  ever  existed,  in  which  the  energy  and  capacity 
of  labor  were  not  commended  and  admired,  or  in  which  a  taste 
for  indolent  pleasure  was  commended  or  admired,  by  the  intel- 
ligent part  of  the  community.  When  we  read  the  lives  of  dis- 
tinguished men,  in  any  department,  we  find  them  almost  always 
celebrated,  for  the  amount  of  labor  they  could  perform.  De- 
mosthenes, Julius  Caesar,  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France,  Lord 
Bacon,  Sir  Isaac  Newton,  Franklin,  Washington,  Napoleon, — 
different  as  they  were  in  their  intellectual  and  moral  qualities, 
— were  all  renowned  as  hard-workers.  We  read  how  many 
days  they  could  support  the  fatigues  of  a  march ;  how  early 
they  rose,  how  late  they  watched ;  how  many  hours  thsy  spent 
in  the  field,  in  the  cabinet,  in  the  court ;  how  many  secretaries 


they  kept  employed ;  in  short,  how  hurcl  they  worked.  But 
who  ever  heard  of  its  being  said  of  a  man  in  commendation, 
that  he  could  sleep  fifteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four,  that  he 
could  eat  six  meals  a  day,  and  that  he  never  got  tired  of  his 
easy-chair  ? 

It  would  he  curious  to  estimate,  by  any  sale  standard,  the 
amount  in  value  of  the  work  of  all  kinds  done  in  a  community. 
This,  of  course,  cannot  be  done,  with  any  great  accuracy. 
The  pursuits  of  men  are  so  various,  and  the  different  kinds  of 
labor  performed  are  so  different  in  the  value  of  their  products, 
that  it  is  scarcely  possible  to  bring  the  aggregate  to  any  scale 
of  calculation.  If  we  would  form  a  kind  of  general  judgment 
of  the  value  of  the  labor  of  ;i  community,  we  must  look  about 
ii>.  All  the  improvements,  which  we  behold,  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  ;  all  the  h  nil  dings  of  every  kind  in  town  and  country  ; 
all  the  vehicles  employed  on  the  land  and  water;  the  roads, 
the  canals,  the  wharlV,  the  bridges;  all  the  property  of  all 
kinds  \\hich  is  accumulated  throughout  the  world  ;  and  all  that 
is  consumed,  from  day  to  day  and  from  hour  to  hour,  to  support 
those  who  live  upon  it, — all  this  i<  the  product  of  labor ;  and  a 
proportionate  share  is  the  product  of  the  labor  of  each  genera- 
tion.— It  is  plain  that  this  comprehensive  view  is  one,  that 
would  admit  of  beiuii  carried  out,  into  an  infinity  of  details, 
which  would  furnish  the  materials  rather  for  a  folio  than  a  lec- 
ture. Hut  as  it  is  the  ta>te  of  the  present  day,  to  bring  every 
thin::  down  lo  the  standard  of  liirnre^  I  will  HI^VM  a  calcula- 
tion, which  will  enable  us  to  judge  of  the  value  of  the  labor 
<>rmed  in  the  community,  in  which  we  live. — Take  the 
•lation  of  Massachusetts,  for  the  sake  of  round  numbers,  at 
600,000  souls.  I  presume  it  will  not  he  thought  extravagant  to 
me,  that  one  in  six  performs  every  d;>  i  day's  work, 

equivalent.      ||'  we  allow   nothing  for  the  labor  of  five  out 
of  six,   (ami   this   certainly  will  cover  the   cases  of  those  too 
ig  and  loo  old  to  do  any  work,  or  who  can  do  only  a  part 
of  a  clay's  work,)  and  if  we  also  allow  nothing  for  those  whose 
time  is  worth  more  than  thnt  of  the  day-laborer,  we  may  safely 


assume,  that  the  sixth  person  performs  daily  a  vigorous  efficient 
day's  work  of  body  or  mind,  by  hand  or  with  tools,  or  partly 
with  each,  and  that  this  day's  work  is  worth  one  dollar.  This 
will  give  us  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  day,  as  the  value 
of  the  work  done  in  the  State  of  Massachusetts.  I  have  no 
doubt  that  it  is  a  good  deal  more, — for  this  would  be  very  little 
more,  than  it  costs  the  population  to  support  itself,  and  allows 
scarce  any  thing  for  accumulation,  a  good  deal  of  which  is 
constantly  taking  place.  It  will,  however,  show  sufficiently  the 
great  amount  of  the  labor  done  in  this  State,  to  take  it  as  com- 
ing up,  at  least,  to  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  per  day. 

I  have  thus  far  laid  down  two  propositions  : — 

First,  that  man  is,  by  his  nature,  a  working  being  ;  and 
second,  that  the  daily  value  of  his  work,  estimated  merely  in 
money,  is  immensely  great,  in  any  civilized  community. 

I  have  made  these  preliminary  remarks,  as  an  introduction  to 
some  observations,  which  I  propose  to  submit  in  the  remainder 
of  this  lecture,  on  the  subject  of  "  a  working  men's  party." — 
Towards  the  organization  of  such  a  party,  steps  have  been 
taken  in  various  parts  of  the  country.  It  is  probable,  that  a 
great  diversity  of  views  exists,  among  those  who  have  occupied 
themselves  upon  the  subject,  in  different  places.  This  circum- 
stance, and  the  novelty  of  the  subject  in  some  of  its  aspects, 
and  its  importance  in  all,  have  led  me  to  think,  that  we  might 
pass  an  hour  profitably,  in  its  contemplation. 

I  will  observe  upon  it,  in  the  first  place,  then,  that  if,  as  I 
have  endeavored  to  show,  man  is  by  nature  a  working  being, 
it  would  follow,  that  a  working  men's  party  is  founded,  in  the 
very  principles  of  our  nature. — Most  parties  may  be  considered 
as  artificial  in  their  very  essence ;  many  are  local,  temporary, 
and  personal.  What  will  the  Adams,  or  the  Jackson,  or  the 
Clay  party  be,  a  hundred  years  hence  ?  What  are  they  now, 
in  nine-tenths  of  the  habitable  globe  ?  Mere  non-entities. — 
But  the  working  men's  party,  however  organized,  is  one  that 
must  subsist,  in  every  civilized  country  to  the  end  of  time.  In 
other  words,  its  first  principles  are  laid  in  our  natures. 


It  secondly  follows,  from  what  I  have  remarked  above,  that 
the  working  men's  party  concerns  a  vast  amount  of  property, 
in  which  almost  every  man  is  interested  ;  and  in  this  respect  it 
differs  from  all  controversies  and  parties,  which  end  merely  in 
speculation,  or  which  end  in  the  personal  advancement  and 
gratification  of  a  few  individuals. 

The  next  question,  that  presents  itself,  is,  what  is  the  gene- 
ral object  of  a  working  men's  party  ?  I  do  not  now  mean,  what 
are  the  immediate  steps,  which  such  a  party  proposes  to  take  ; 
but  what  is  the  main  object  and  end,  which  it  would  secure.  To 
this  I  suppose  I  may  safely  answer,  that  it  is  not  to  carry  this  or 
that  political  election ;  not  to  elevate  this  or  that  candidate  for 
office,  but  to  promote  the  prosperity  and  welfare  of  working 
men  ;  that  is,  to  secure  to  every  man  disposed  to  work,  the 
greatest  freedom  in  the  choice  of  his  pursuit,  the  greatest  en- 
couragement 'and  aid  in  pursuing  it,  the  greatest  security  in 
enjoying  its  fruits : — in  other  words  to  make  work,  in  the 
greatest  possible  degree,  produce  happiness. 

The  next  inquiry  seems  to  be,  who  belong  to  the  working 
men's  party  ?  The  general  answer  here  is  obvious, — nil  who  do 
the  work;  or  are  actually  willing  and  desirous  to  do  it,  and 
prevented  only  by  absolute  inahilitv,  such  as  sickness  or  natural 
infirmity.  Let  us  try  the  correctness  of  this  view,  by  seeing, 
uhoni  it  would  exclude  and  whom  it  would  include. 

This  rule,  in  the  first  place,  would   exclude  all   bad  men; 

that  is,  those,  who  may  work  indeed,  but  who  work  for  im- 

;1  and  unlawful  ends.     This  is  a  very  important  distinction, 

and,  if  practically  applied   and    vigorously  enforced,    it  would 

make   the  working  men's  party  the  purest   society,  that  ever 

led  since  the  time  of  the  primitive  christians.     It  is  grcaily 

to  be  feared,  that  scarce  any  of  tl:  ,  that  divide  the 

nliiriently  jealous  on    this  point;  and  for  the 

natural  reason,  that  it   does   not   lie  in   the  very  nature   of  the 

parties. — Thus,  at  the  polls,  the  vote  of  one  man  is  as  good  as 

the  vote  of  another.     The  vote  of  the  drunkard  counts  one ; 

the  vote  of  the  temperate  man  counts  but  one.      For  this  rea- 


son,  the  mere  party  politician,  if  he  can  secure  the  vote,  is 
apt  not  to  be  very  inquisitive  about  the  temperance  of  the 
voter.  He  may  even  prefer  the  intemperate  to  the  temperate  ; 
for  to  persuade  the  temperate  man  to  vote  with  him,  he  must 
give  him  a  good  reason  ; — the  other  will  do  it  for  a  good  drink. 

But  the  true  principles  of  the  working  men's  party  require, 
not  merely  that  a  man  should  work,  but  that  he  should  work 
in  an  honest  way  and  for  a  lawful  object.  The  man,  who 
makes  counterfeit  money,  probably  works  harder  than  the 
honest  engraver,  who  prepares  the  bills,  for  those  authorized 
by  law  to  issue  them.  But  he  would  be  repelled  with  scorn, 
if  he  presented  himself  as  a  member  of  the  working  men's 
party.  The  thief,  who  passes  his  life  and  gains  a  wretched 
precarious  subsistence,  by  midnight  trespasses  on  his  neigh- 
bour's grounds  ;  by  stealing  horses  from  the  stall,  and  wood 
from  the  pile  ;  by  wrenching  bars  and  bolts  at  night,  or  picking 
pockets  in  a  crowd,  probably  works  harder,  (taking  uncertainty 
and  anxiety  into  the  calculation,  and  adding,  as  the  usual  con- 
sequence, four  or  five  years  in  the  compulsory  service  of  the 
State,)  than  the  average  of  men  pursuing  honest  industry,  even 
of  the  most  laborious  kind  :  but  this  hard  work  would  not  en- 
title him  to  be  regarded  as  a  member  of  the  working  men's 
party. 

If  it  be  inquired,  who  is  to  be  the  judge,  what  kind  of  work 
is  not  only  no  title,  but  an  absolute  disqualification  for  admis- 
sion to  the  working  men's  party,  on  the  score  of  dishonesty, 
we  answer,  that  for  all  practical  purposes,  this  must  be  left  to 
the  law  of  the  land.  It  is  true,  that  under  cover  and  within 
the  pale  of  the  law,  a  man  may  do  things  morally  dishonest, 
and  such  as  ought  to  shut  him  out  of  the  party.  But  expe- 
rience has  shown,  that  it  is  dangerous  to  institute  an  inquisition 
into  the  motives  of  individuals ;  and  so  long  as  a  man  does 
nothing,  which  the  law  forbids, — in  a  country  where  the  peo- 
ple make  the  laws, — he  ought,  if  not  otherwise  disqualified,  to 
be  admitted  as  a  member  of  the  party. 

There  ought,  however,  perhaps  to  be  two  exceptions  to  this 
2 


10 

principle  ;  one,  the  case  of  those,  who  pursue  habitually  a 
course  of  life,  which,  though  contrary  to  law,  is  not  usually 
punished  by  the  law,  such  as  persons  habitually  intemperate. 
It  is  plain,  that  these  men  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  act  with 
the  party,  because  they  would  always  be  liable,  by  a  very  slight 
temptation,  to  be  made  to  act  in  a  manner  hostile  to  its  in- 
terests ;  and  because  they  are  habitually  in  a  state  of  inca- 
pacity to  do  any  intelligent  and  rational  act. 

The  other  exception  ought  to  be  of  men,  who  take  advan- 
tage of  the  law  to  subserve  their  own  selfish  and  malignant 
passions.  This  is  done  in  various  ways,  but  I  will  allude  to 
but  one.  The  law  puts  it  in  the  power  of  the  creditor,  not 
merely  to  seize  the  property  of  the  debtor,  in  payment  of  the 
debt ;  but  to  consider  every  case  of  inability  as  a  case  of 
fraudulent  concealment,  and  to  punish  it  as  such,  by  imprison- 
ment. This  is  often  done  in  a  way  to  inflict  the  greatest  pos- 
sible pain ;  and  in  cases,  in  which  not  only  no  advantage  but 
additional  cost  accrues  to  the  creditor.  A  man  who  thus  takes 
the  advantage  of  the  law,  to  wreak  upon  others  his  malignant 
passions,  ought  to  be  excluded,  not  merely  from  the  working 
men's  part\,  but  from  the  pale  of  civilized  society. 

:ie\t  question  regards  idlers.  If  we  exclude  from  the 
\\orking  IIMMI'S  party  all  dishonest  and  immoral  workers,  what 
are  .  ;<>  the  case  of  the  idlers? — In  general  terms,  the 

ansu  ijiirsiinn   i<  plain,  they  too  must  be  excluded. 

With  what  HP  f  reason  can  an  idler  ask  to  be  admitted 

into  the  MI    of  working   r,;en,  unless  h;-   is  \\illing   to 

qualifv  himflelf  bj  n'oing  to  work,  and    then  I:.  to  he    an 

idler.     In  fact,  tin  away  his  time,  aets  against 

the   la\\  of  his  nature,  as  a  working  being.     It  must  be  ob- 
•  (1,    however,  thru  there   are   feu    eases,  where   u   man   i.-> 
merely  nn  idler.     In   almost  every  en .-,«-,  hr  must1  'lin.i; 

t, — <ueh  as  a  spendthrift,  a  gamester,  or  an  intemperate 
person  ;  a  bad  son,  a  had  husband,  and  a  bad  father.  If  there 
are  any  persons  dependent  ou  him  for  support;  if  he  idles  away 
the  time,  which  he  ought  to  devote  to  maintaining  his  wife,  or  his 


11 

children,  or  his  aged  parents,  he  then  becomes  a  robber  ;  a  man 
that  steals  the  bread  out  of  the  mouths  of  his  own  family,  and 
the  clothes  off  their  backs;  and  he  is  as  much  more  criminal, 
than  the  common  highway  robber,  who  takes  the  stranger's 
purse  on  the  turnpike,  as  the  ties  of  duty  to  our  parents  and 
children,  are  beyond  those  of  common  justice  between  man  and 
man.  But  I  suppose  it  would  not  require  much  argument  to 
show,  that  the  person,  who  leaves  to  want  those  whom  he  ought 
to  support,  even  if  he  does  not  pass  his  idle  hours  in  any  crimi- 
nal pursuit,  has  no  right  to  call  himself  a  working  man. 

There  is  a  third  class  of  men,  whose  case  deserves  consid- 
eration, and  who  are  commonly  called  busy-bodies. — They  are 
as  different  from  real  working  men,  as  light  is  from  darkness. 
They  cannot  be  called  idlers,  for  they  are  never  at  rest ;  nor 
yet  workers,  for  they  pursue  no  honest  creditable  employment. 
So  long  as  they  are  merely  busy-bodies,  and  are  prompted 
in  their  officious,  fluttering,  unproductive  activity,  by  no  bad 
motive  and  no  malignant  passion,  they  cannot,  perhaps,  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  party,  though  they  have  really  no  claim  to  be 
admitted  into  it.  But  here,  too,  the  case  of  a  mere  busy-body 
scarce  ever  occurs.  This  character  is  almost  always  something 
more  ;  a  dangerous  gossip,  a  tattling  mischief-maker,  a  propa- 
gator, too  frequently  an  inventor,  of  slander.  He  repeats  at 
one  fireside,  with  additions,  what  he  heard  at  another,  under 
the  implied  obligation  of  confidence  ;  he  is  commonly  in  the 
front  rank  of  all  uneasy  and  inconsiderate  movements,  safely 
entrenched  behind  his  neighbor,  whom  he  pushes  into  trouble ; 
and  he  is  very  fond  of  writing  anonymous  libels  in  the  newspa- 
pers, on  men  of  whom  he  knows  nothing.  Such  men,  and 
there  are  too  many  of  them,  ought  to  be  excluded  from  the  party. 

Shutting  out  then,  all  who  work  dishonestly,  and  all  who  do 
not  work  at  all,  and  admitting  the  busy-bodies  with  great  cau- 
tion, the  working  men's  party  comprehends  all  those,  by  whom 
the  work  of  the  community  is  really  done ; — all  those  who,  by 
any  kind  of  honest  industry,  employ  the  talent,  which  their 
Creator  has  given  them.  All  these  form  one  great  party,  one 


12 

comprehensive  society,  and  this  by  the  very  law  of  our  nature. 
Man  is  not  only,  as  I  observed  in  the  beginning,  a  working 
being ;  but  he  is  a  being  formed  to  work  in  society ;  and  if  the 
matter  be  carefully  analysed,  it  will  be  found,  that  civilization, 
that  is,  the  bringing  men  out  of  a  savage  into  a  cultivated  state, 
consists  in  multiplying  the  number  of  pursuits  and  occupa- 
tions :  so  that  the  most  perfect  society  is  one,  where  the  largest 
number  of  persons  are  prosperously  employed,  in  the  greatest 
variety  of  ways.  In  such  a  society,  men  help  each  other,  in- 
stead of  standing  in  each  other's  way.  The  farther  this  division 
of  labor  is  carried,  the  more  persons  must  unite  harmoniously, 
to  effect  the  common  ends.  The  larger  the  number,  on  which 
each  depends,  the  larger  the  number  to  which  each  is  useful. 

This  union  of  different  kinds  of  workmen  in  one  harmonious 
society  seems  to  be  laid,  in  the  very  structure  and  organization 
of  man.  Man  is  a  being,  consisting  of  a  body  and  a  soul. 
These  words  are  soon  uttered,  and  they  are  so  ojten  uttered, 
that  the  mighty  truth,  which  is  embraced  in  them,  scarce  ever 
engages  our  attention. — But  man  is  composed  of  body  and 
soul.  What  is  body  ?  It  is  material  substance  ;  it  is  clay, 
dust,  ashes.  Look  at  it,  as  you  tread  it  unorganized  beneath 
your  feet ;  contemplate  it,  when,  after  having  been  organized 
and  animated,  it  is,  by  a  process  of  corruption,  returning;  to  its 
original  Mate.  Matter,  in  its  appearances  to  us,  is  an  unorgan- 
ized, inanimate,  cold,  dull,  and  barren  thin::.  What  it  is  in  its 
essence,  no  one  but  the  Being  who  created  it  knows.  The 
human  mind  can  conrrive  of  it  only  as  the  absolute  negation 
of  qualities.  And  \\e  say,  that  the  body  of  man  is  formed  of 
the  clay  or  du>t  ;  beeausu  these  substances  seem  to  us  to 
make  tin-  nearc-i  approach  to  the  total  privation  of  all  the 
properties  of  intelle.rt.  Surh  is  the  body  of  man. — What  is  his 
soult — Its  essence  is  as  little  known  to  us  as  that  of  body; 
but  its  qualities  are  angelic,  divine.  It  is  soul,  which  thinks, 
reasons,  invents,  remembers,  hopes,  and  loves.  It  is  the  soul 
which  lives ;  for  when  the  soul  departs  from  the  body,  all  its 
vital  powers  cease ;  and  it  is  dead ; — and  what  is  the  body 
then? 


13 

Now  the  fact,  to  which  I  wish  to  call  your  attention,  is,  that 
these  two  elements,  one  of  which  is  akin  to  the  poorest  dust 
on  which  we  tread,  and  the  other  of  which  is  of  the  nature  of 
angelic  and  even  of  divine  intelligence,  are,  in  every  human 
being,  without  exception,  brought  into  a  most  intimate  and 
perfect  union.  We  can  conceive,  that  it  might  have  been  dif- 
ferent. God  could  have  created  matter  by  itself  and  mind  by 
itself.  We  believe  in  the  existence  of  incorporeal  beings  of  a 
nature  higher  than  man ;  and  we  behold  beneath  us  in  brutes, 
plants,  and  stones,  various  orders  of  material  nature,  rising,  one 
above  another,  in  organization  ;  but  none  of  them  (as  we  sup- 
pose) possessing  mind. — We  can  imagine  a  world  so  consti- 
tuted, that  all  the  intellect  would  have  been  by  itself,  pure  and 
disembodied  ;  and  all  the  material  substance  by  itself  unmixed 
with  mind  ;  and  acted  upon  by  mind,  as  inferior  beings  are 
supposed  to  be  acted  upon  by  angels.  But  in  constituting  our 
race,  it  pleased  the  Creator  to  bring  the  two  elements  into  the 
closest  union ;  to  take  the  body  from  the  dust ;  the  soul  from 
the  highest  heaven  ;  and  mould  them  into  one. 

The  consequence  is,  that  the  humblest  laborer,  who  works 
with  his  hands,  possesses  within  him  a  soul,  endowed  with  pre- 
cisely the  same  faculties,  as  those  which  in  Franklin,  in  New- 
ton, or  Shakspeare,  have  been  the  light  and  the  wonder  of  the 
world ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  the  most  gifted  and  etherial 
genius,  whose  mind  has  fathomed  the  depths  of  the  heavens 
and  comprehended  the  whole  circle  of  truth,  is  enclosed  in  a 
body,  subject  to  the  same  passions,  infirmities,  and  wants,  as 
the  man  whose  life  knows  no  alternation  but  labor  and  rest,  ap- 
petite and  indulgence. 

Did  it  stop  here,  it  would  be  merely  an  astonishing  fact  in 
the  constitution  of  our  natures  ; — but  it  does  not  stop  here.  In 
consequence  of  the  union  of  the  two  principles  in  the  human 
frame,  every  act,  that  a  man  performs,  requires  the  agency 
both  of  body  and  mind.  His  mind  cannot  see,  but  thrqugh  the 
optic  eye-glass ;  nor  hear  till  the  drum  of  his  ear  is  affected  by 
the  vibrations  of  the  air.  If  he  would  speak,  he  puts  in  action 


14 

the  complex  machinery  of  the  vocal  organs;  if  he  writes  he 
employs  the  muscular  system  of  the  hands ;  nor  can  he  even 
perform  the  operations  of  pure  thought,  except  in  a  healthy 
state  of  the  body.  A  fit  of  the  tooth-ache,  proceeding  from 
the  irritation  of  a  nerve,  about  as  big  as  a  cambric-thread,  is 
enough  to  drive  an  understanding,  capable  of  instructing  the 
world,  to  the  verge  of  insanity.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is 
no  operation  of  manual  labor  so  simple,  so  mechanical,  which 
does  not  require  the  exercise  of  perception,  reflection,  memo- 
ry, and  judgment ;  the  same  intellectual  powers,  by  which  the 
highest  truths  of  science  have  been  discovered  and  illustrated. 

The  degree  to  which  any  particular  action,  (or  series  of  ac- 
tions united  into  a  pursuit)  shall  exercise  the  intellectual  pow- 
ers, on  the  one  hand,  or  the  mechanical  powers  on  the  other, 
of  course,  depends  on  the  nature  of  that  action.  The  slave 
whose  life  from  childhood  to  the  grave  is  passed  in  the  field  ; 
the  New  Zealander  who  goes  to  war,  when  he  is  hungry,  de- 
vours his  prisoners,  and  leads  a  life  of  cannibal  debauch  till  he 
has  consumed  them  all,  and  then  goes  to  war  again  ;  the 
Greenlander,  who  warms  himself  with  the  fragments  of  wrecks 
and  drift-wood  thrown  upon  the  glaciers,  and  feeds  himself  with 
blubber  ;  seem  all,  to  lead  lives,  requiring  but  little  intellectual 
action  ;  and  yet,  as  I  have  remarked,  a  careful  reflection  would 
show  that  there  is  not  one,  even  of  them,  who  does  not,  every 
moment  of  his  lifo,  call  into  exercise,  though  in  an  humble  de- 
gree, all  the  powers  of  the  mind.  In  like  manner,  the  philoso- 
pher who  shuts  himself  up  in  his  cell  and  leads  a  contemplative 
existence,  among  books  or  instruments  of  science,  seems  to 
have  no  occasion  to  employ,  in  their  ordinary  exercise,  many 
of  the  rnparitics  of  his  nature  for  physical  action  ; — although 
h«-  :ils'>,  ns  I  hnvr  observed,  cannot  act  or  even  think,  but  with 
tin-  nid  of  his  body. 

This  is  unquestionably  true.  The  same  Creator  who  made 
man  a  mixed  being,  composed  of  body  and  soul  ;  having  de- 
signed him  for  such  a  world  as  that  in  which  we  live ;  has  so 
constituted  the  world  and  man  who  inhabits  it,  as  to  afford 


15 

scope  for  great  variety  of  occupations,  pursuits,  and  conditions, 
arising  from  the  tastes,  characters,  habits,  virtues  and  even  vices 
of  men  and  communities.  For  the  same  reason,  that — though 
all  men  are  alike  composed  of  body  and  soul,  yet  no  two  men 
probably  are  exactly  the  same  in  respect  to  either ; — so  provi- 
sion has  been  made,  by  the  author  of  our  being,  for  an  infinity 
of  pursuits  and  employments,  calling  out,  in  degrees  as  various, 
the  peculiar  powers  of  both  principles. 

But  I  have  already  endeavored  to  show,  that  there  is  no  pur- 
suit and  no  action  that  does  not  require  the  united  operation  of 
both  ;  and  this  of  itself  is  a  broad  natural  foundation  for  the 
union  into  one  interest  of  all,  in  the  same  community,  who  are 
employed  in  honest  work  of  any  kind  ;  viz.  that,  however  va- 
rious their  occupations,  they  are  all  working  with  the  same  in- 
struments ;  the  organs  of  the  body  and  the  powers  of  the  mind. 

But  we  may  go  a  step  farther,  to  remark  the  beautiful  pro- 
cess, by  which  Providence  has  so  interlaced  and  wrought  up  to- 
gether the  pursuits,  interests,  and  wants  of  our  nature,  that  the 
philosopher,  whose  home  seems  less  on  earth  than  among  the 
stars,  requires  for  the  prosecution  of  his  studies  the  aid  of 
numerous  artificers  in  various  branches  of  mechanical  industry  ; 
and  in  return,  furnishes  the  most  important  facilities  to  the 
humblest  branches  of  manual  labor.  Let  us  take  as  a  sin- 
gle instance,  that  of  astronomical  science.  It  may  be  safely 
said,  that  the  wonderful  discoveries  of  modern  astronomy  and 
the  philosophical  system  depending  upon  them,  could  not  have 
existed,  but  for  the  telescope.  The  want  of  the  telescope  kept 
astronomical  science  in  its  infancy  among  the  ancients.  Al- 
though Pythagoras,  one  of  the  earliest  Greek  philosophers,  by 
a  fortunate  exercise  of  sagacity,  conceived  the  elements  of  the 
Copernican  system,  yet  we  find  no  general  and  practical  im- 
provement resulting  from  it.  It  was  only  from  the  period  of 
the  discoveries,  made  by  the  telescope,  that  the  science  ad- 
vanced, with  sure  and  rapid  progress.  Now  the  astronomer  does 
not  make  telescopes.  I  presume  it  would  be  impossible  for  a 
person,  who  employed  in  the  abstract  study  of  astronomical 


16 

science  time  enough  to  comprehend  its  profound  investiga- 
tions, to  learn  and  practise  the  trade  of  making  glass.  It  is 
mentioned,  as  a  remarkable  versatility  of  talent  in  one  or  two 
eminent  observers,  that  they  have  superintended  the  cutting  and 
polishing  of  the  glasses  of  their  own  telescopes.  But  I  pre- 
sume if  there  never  had  been  a  telescope,  till  some,  scientific 
astronomer  had  learned  to  mix,  melt,  and  mould  glass,  such  a 
thing  would  never  have  been  heard  of.  It  is  not  less  true,  that 
those  employed  in  making  the  glass  could  not,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  be  expected  to  acquire  the  scientific  knowledge,  requi- 
site for  carrying  on  those  arduous  calculations,  applied  to  bring 
into  a  system,  the  discoveries  made  by  the  magnifying  power 
of  the  telescope.  I  might  extend  the  same  remark  to  the  other 
materials,  of  which  a  telescope  consists.  It  cannot  be  used  to 
any  purpose  of  nice  observation,  without  being  very  carefully 
mounted,  on  a  frame  of  strong  metal  ;  which  demands  the 
united  labors  of  the  mathematical  instrument-maker,  and  the 
brass-founder.  Here  then,  in  taking  but  one  single  step  out 
of  the  philosopher's  observatory,  we  find  he  needs  an  instru- 
ment, to  be  produced  by  the  united  labors  of  the  mathematical 
instrument-maker ;  the  brass-founder  ;  the  glass-polisher  ;  a::d 
.Maker  of  glass,  four  trades. *  He  must  also  have  an  astro- 
nomical clock,  and  it  would  be  easy  to  count  up  half  a  dozen 
trades,  which  directlv  or  indirectly  are  connected  in  making  a 
•  lock.  But  let  us  iro  bark  to  the  olijcct  glass  of  the  telescope. 
A  glass  factory  requires  a  building  and  furnaces.  The  man 
who  makes  the  glass,  does  not  make  the  building.  But  the 
stone  and  brick  ma-on.  the  carpenter,  and  the  blacksmith  must 
furnish  th«-  greater  part  of  the  labor  and  skill,  required  to  con- 
struct the  building.  When  it  is  built,  a  large  quantity  of  fuel, 
wood  and  wood-coal,  or  mineral  coal  of  various  kinds,  or  all 
together  mu'-t  be  jnoviderl;  and  thru  the  materials  of  which 
the  glass  is  made  and  with  which  it  is  colored,  some  of  which 
are  furnished  by  commerce  from  different  and  distant  regions, 

*  The  allusion  is  here  to  the  simplest  form  of  a  telescope.     The  illustra- 
tion would  be  stronger  in  the  case  of  a  reflector. 


17 

and  must  be  brought  in  ships  across  the  sea.  We  cannot  take 
up  any  one  of  these  trades,  without  immediately  finding  that  it 
connects  itself  with  numerous  others.  Take  for  instance,  the 
mason  who  builds  the  furnace.  He  does  not  make  his  own 
bricks,  nor  burn  his  own  lime ;  in  common  cases,  the  .bricks 
come  from  one  place,  the  lime  from  another,  the  sand  from 
another.  The  brick-maker  does  not  cut  down  his  own  wood. 
It  is  carted  or  brought  in  boats  to  his  yard.  The  man,  who 
carts  it  does  not  make  his  own  wagon  ;  nor  does  the  person 
who  brings  it  in  boats,  build  his  own  boat.  The  man,  who 
makes  the  wagon,  does  not  make  its  tire.  The  blacksmith, 
who  makes  the  tire,  does  not  smelt  the  ore  ;  and  the  forgeman 
who  smelts  the  ore,  does  not  build  his  own  furnace,  (and  there 
we  get  back  to  the  point  whence  we  started,)  nor  dig  his  own 
mine.  The  man  who  digs  the  mine,  does  not  make  the  pick- 
axe with  which  he  digs  it ;  nor  the  pump  with  which  he 
keeps  out  the  water.  The  man  who  makes  the  pump,  did  not 
discover  the  principle  of  atmospheric  pressure,  which  led  to 
purnp-making :  that  was  done  by  a  mathematician  at  Florence, 
experimenting  in  his  chamber,  on  a  glass  tube.  And  here  we 
come  back  again  to  our  glass  ;  and  to  an  instance  of  the  close 
connexion  of  scientific  research  with  practical  art.  It  is  plain, 
that  this  enumeration  might  be  pursued  till  every  art  and 
every  science  were  shown  to  run  into  every  other.  No  one  can 
doubt  this,  who  will  go  over  the  subject  in  his  own  mind,  be- 
ginning with  any  one  of  the  processes  of  mining  and  working 
metals,  of  ship-building,  and  navigation,  and  the  other  branches 
of  art  and  industry,  pursued  in  civilized  communities. 

If  then,  on  the  one  hand,  the  astronomer  depends  for  his 
telescope  on  the  ultimate  product  of  so  many  arts ;  in  return, 
his  observations  are  the  basis  of  an  astronomical  system  and  of 
calculations  of  the  movements  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which 
furnish  the  mariner  with  his  best  guide  across  the  ocean.  The 
prudent  ship-master  would  no  more  think  of  sailing  for  India, 
without  his  Bowditch's  Practical  Navigator,  than  he  would 
without  his  compass ;  and  this  Navigator  contains  tables,  drawn 
3 


18 

from  the  highest  walks  of  astronomical  science.  Every  first 
mate  of  a  vessel,  who  works  a  lunar  observation,  to  ascertain 
the  ship's  longitude,  employs  tables,  in  which  the  most  won- 
derful discoveries  and  calculations  of  La  Place  and  Newton, 
and  Bowditch  are  interwoven. 

I  mention  this  as  but  one  of  the  cases,  in  which  astronomical 
science  promotes  the  service  and  convenience  of  common  life; 
and  perhaps,  when  we  consider  the  degree,  to  which  the 
modern  extension  of  navigation  connects  itself  with  industry  in 
all  its  branches,  this  may  be  thought  sufficient.  I  will  only 
add,  that  the  cheap  convenience  of  an  almanac,  which  enters 
into  the  comforts  of  every  fireside  in  the  country,  could  not  be 
enjoyed,  but  for  the  labors  and  studies  of  the  profoundest 
philosophers.  Not  that  great  learning  or  talent  is  now  requir- 
ed to  execute  the  astronomical  calculations  of  an  almanac, 
although  no  inconsiderable  share  of  each  is  needed  for  this 
purpose  ;  but  because,  even  to  perform  these  calculations  re- 
quires the  aid  of  tables,  which  have  been  gradually  formed  on 
the  basis  of  the  profoundest  investigations  of  the  long  line  of 
philosophers,  who  have  devoted  themselves  to  this  branch  of 
science.  For,  as  we  observed  on  the  mechanical  side  of  the 
illustration,  it  was  not  one  trade  alone,  which  was  required  to 
furnish  the  philosopher  with  his  instrument,  but  a  great  varie- 
ty;  so,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  the  philosopher  in  one 
department,  who  creates  a  science  out  of  nothing.  The  ob- 
servi:  :iomer  furnHies  man-rials  to  the  calculating  as- 

tronomer, and  iho  calculator  derives  methods  from  the  purr 
mathematician  ;  and  a  long  succession  of  each  for  ages  mu>t 
unite  their  labors,  in  a  irreat  result.  Without  the  geometry  of 
the  Greeks,  and  tin:  algebra  of  the  Arabs,  the  infinitesimal 
analysis  of  Newton  and  Leibniiy,  would  never  have  been  in- 
vented. 

Examples  and  illustrations  equally  instructive  niiirht  b(j 
found  in  every  other  branch  of  industry.  The  man,  who 
will  go  into  a  cotton-mill,  and  contemplate  it  from  the  great 
water-wheel,  that  gives  the  first  movement,  (and  still  more 


19 

from  the  steam  engine,  should  that  be  the  moving  power,) 
who  will  observe  the  parts  of  the  machinery,  and  the  various 
processes  of  the  fabric,  till  he  reaches  the  hydrostatic  press,  with 
which  it  is  made  into  a  bale,  and  the  canal  or  rail-road  by 
which  it  is  sent  to  market,  may  find  every  branch  of  trade  and 
every  department  of  science  literally  crossed,  intertwined,  in- 
terwoven with  every  other,  like  the  woof  and  the  warp  of  the 
article  manufactured.  Not  a  little  of  the  spinning  machinery 
is  constructed  on  principles,  drawn  from  the  demonstrations  of 
transcendental  mathematics;  and  the  processes  of  bleaching 
and  dying,  now  practised,  are  the  results  of  the  most  profound 
researches  of  modern  chemistry. — And  if  this  does  not  satisfy 
the  inquirer,  let  him  trace  the  cotton  to  the  plantation,  where  it 
grew,  in  Georgia  or  Alabama ;  the  indigo  to  Bengal ;  the  oil  to 
the  olive-gardens  of  Italy,  or  the  fishing  grounds  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean  ;  let  him  consider  Whitney's  cotton-gin  ;  Whittemore's 
carding-machine  ;  the  power-loom ;  and  the  spinning  appara- 
tus ;  and  all  the  arts,  trades,  and  sciences,  directly  or  indirectly 
connected  with  these ;  and  I  believe  he  will  soon  agree,  that 
one  might  start  from  a  yard  of  coarse  printed  cotton,  which 
costs  ten  cents,  and  prove  out  of  it,  as  out  of  a  text,  that  every 
art  and  science  under  heaven  had  been  concerned  in  its  fabric. 
I  ought  here  to  allude  also,  to  some  of  those  pursuits,  which 
require  the  ability  to  exercise,  at  the  same  time,  on  the  part  of 
the  same  individual  the  faculties  both  of  the  intellectual  and 
physical  nature, — or  which  unite  very  high  and  low  degrees  of 
mental  power.  I  have  no  doubt,  that  the  talent  for  drawing 
and  painting,  possessed  by  some  men  to  such  an  admirable  de- 
gree, depends  partly  on  a  peculiar  organic  structure  of  the  eye, 
and  of  the  muscles  of  the  hand,  which  gives  them  their  more 
delicate  perceptions  of  color  and  their  greater  skill  in  delinea- 
tion. These  no  doubt  are  possessed  by  many  individuals, 
who  want  the  intellectual  talent, — the  poetic  fire, — required  for 
a  great  painter.  On  the  other  hand,  I  can  conceive  of  a  man's 
possessing  the  invention  and  imagination  of  a  painter,  without 
the  eye  and  the  hand  required  to  embody  on  the  canvass  the 


20    , 

ideas  and  images  in  his  mind.  When  the  two  unite,  they  make 
a  Raphael  or  a  Titian  ;  a  Martin  or  an  Allston.  An  accom- 
plished statuary,  such  as  Canova  or  Chantrey,  must,  on  the 
one  hand,  possess  a  soul  filled  with  all  grand  and  lovely  images, 
and  have  a  Jiving  conception  of  ideal  beauty  ;  and  on  the  other 
hand,  he  must  be  a  good  stone-cutter,  and  able  to  take  a  ham- 
mer and  a  chisel  in  his  hand,  and  go  to  work  on  a  block  of  mar- 
ble, and  chip  it  down  to  the  lip  of  Apollo  or  the  eye-lid  of 
Venus. — The  architect  must  be  practically  acquainted  with  all 
the  materials  of  building,  wood,  brick,  mortar,  and  stone  ;  he 
must  have  the  courage  and  skill  to  plant  his  moles  against  the 
heaving  ocean,  and  to  hang  his  ponderous  domes  and  gigantic 
arches  in  the  air ;  while  he  must  have  taste  to  combine  the 
rough  and  scattered  blocks  of  the  quarry  into  beautiful  and 
majestic  structures  ;  and  discern  clearly  in  his  mind's  eye,  be- 
fore a  sledge-hammer  has  been  lifted,  the  elevation  and  pro- 
portions of  the  temple.  The  poet  must  know,  with  a  school- 
master's precision,  the  weight  of  every  word,  and  what  vowel 
follows  most  smoothly,  on  what  consonant ;  at  the  same  time, 
that  his  soul  must  be  stored  with  images,  feelings,  and  thoughts, 
beyond  the  power  of  the  boldest  and  most  glowing  language,  to 
do  more  than  faintly  shadow  out.  The  surgeon  must,  at  once, 
have  a  mind  naturally  gifted  and  diligently  trained,  to  pene- 
trate the  dark  recessess  of  organic  life;  and  a  nerve  and  tact, 
which  will  enable  him  to  piidc  his  knife  among  veins  and  arte- 
ries, out  of  sight,  in  the  living  body  of  an  agonizing,  shrieking 
fellow  creature,  or  to  take  a  lancet  in  his  left  hand,  and  cut 
into  the  apple  of  the  eye.  The  lawyer  must  be  able  to  reason 
from  the  noblest  principles  of  human  duty  and  the*  most  gene- 
rous feelings  of  human  nature  ;  he  must  fully  comprehend  the 
mighty  maze  of  the  social  relations ;  he  must  carry  about  with 
him  a  stock  of  learning  almost  boundless  ;  he  must  be  a  sort 
of  god  to  men  and  communities,  who  look  up  to  him,  in  the 
hour  of  the  dearest  peril  of  their  lives  and  fortunes ;  and  he 
must  at  the  same  time  be  conversant  with  a  tissue  of  the  most 
senseless  fictions  and  arbitrary  technology,  that  ever  disgraced 


21 

a  liberal  science.  The  merchant  must  be  able  to  look  at  the 
same  moment,  at  the  markets  and  exchanges  of  distant  coun- 
tries and  other  hemispheres,  and  combine  considerations  of  the 
political  condition,  the  natural  wants,  the  tastes  and  habits  of 
different  parts  of  the  world  ;  and  he  must  be  expert  at  figures, 
— understand  book-keeping  by  double  entry, — and  know  as 
well  how  to  take  care  of  a  quarter  chest  of  tea  as  a  cargo  of 
specie.  The  general-in-chief  must  be  capable  of  calculating 
for  a  twelvemonth  in  advance  the  result  of  a  contest,  in  which 
all  the  power,  resource,  and  spirit  of  two  great  empires  enter 
and  struggle,  on  land  and  by  sea  ;  and  he  must  have  an  eye, 
that  can  tell  at  a  glance,  and  on  the  responsibility  of  his  life, 
how  the  stone  walls,  and  trenched  meadows,  the  barns,  and  the 
woods,  and  the  cross-roads  of  a  neighborhood,  will  favor  or  re- 
sist the  motions  of  a  hundred  thousand  men,  scattered  over  a 
space  of  five  miles,  in  the  fury  of  the  advance,  the  storm  of 
battle,  the  agony  of  flight,  covered  with  smoke,  dust,  and 
blood.* 

It  was  my  intention  to  subject  the  art  of  printing  to  an  analy- 
sis of  the  trades,  arts  and  sciences  connected  with  it;  but  1 
have  not  time  to  do  it  full  justice,  and  the  bare  general  idea 
need  not  be  repeated.  I  will  only  say  that,  beginning  with  the 
invention,  which  bears  in  popular  tradition  the  name  of  Cad- 
mus, I  mean  the  invention  of  alphabetical  signs  to  express 
sounds,  and  proceeding  to  the  discovery  of  convenient  mate- 
rials for  writing,  and  the  idea  of  written  discourse ;  thence  to 
the  preparation  of  manuscript  books  ;  and  thence  to  the  fabric, 
on  a  large  scale,  of  linen  and  cotton  paper,  the  invention  of 
moveable  types,  and  the  printing  press,  the  art  of  engrav- 
ing on  metal,  of  stereotype  printing,  and  of  the  power  press, — 
we  have  a  series  of  discoveries,  branching  out  into  others  in 
every  department  of  human  pursuit ;  connecting  the  highest 
philosophical  principles  with  the  results  of  mere  manual  labor, 
and  producing  in  the  end,  that  system  of  diffusing  and  multi- 

*  This  paragraph  is  taken,  with  some  alterations,  from  an  Essay  published 
by  the  author  some  years  ago  in  a  Periodical  Journal. 


22 

plying  the  expression  of  thought,  which  is,  perhaps,  the  glory 
of  our  human  nature.  Pliny  said,  that  the  Egyptian  reed  was 
the  support,  on  which  the  immortal  fame  of  man  rested. 
He  referred  to  its  use,  in  the  manufacture  of  paper.  We  may 
with  greater  justice  say  as  much  of  the  manufacture  of  paper 
from  rags,  and  of  the  printing  press,  neither  of  which  was 
known  to  Pliny. — But  with  all  the  splendor  of  modern  dis- 
coveries and  improvements  in  science  and  art,  I  cannot  but  think 
that  he,  who  in  the  morning  of  the  world,  first  conceived  the 
idea  of  representing  sounds,  by  visible  signs,  took  the  most 
important  step,  in  the  march  of  improvement.  This  sublime 
conception  was  struck  out  in  the  infancy  of  mankind.  The 
name  of  its  author,  his  native  country,  and  the  time  when  he 
lived,  are  known  only,  by  very  uncertain  tradition ;  but  though 
all  the  intelligence  of  ancient  and  modern  times,  and  in  the 
most  improved  countries,  has  been  concentered  into  a  focus, 
burning  and  blazing  upon  this  one  spot,  it  has  never  been  able 
to  reduce  it  to  any  simpler  elements,  nor  to  improve,  in  the 
slightest  degree,  upon  the  original  suggestion  of  Cadmus. 

In  what,  I  have  thus  far  submitted  to  you,  you  will  probably 
have  remarked,  that  I  have  illustrated  chiefly  the  connexion 
with  each  oilier  of  the  various  branches  of  science  and  art;  of 
the  intellectual  and  physical  principles.  I  have  not  distinctly 
shown  the  connexion  of  the  moral  principle,  in  all  its  great 
hranehes,  with  hoili.  Tliis  subject  would  well  form  the  matter 
of  a  v,.p;irate  i  »ay.  Bui  its  elementary  ideas  are  few  and 
plain.  Tin-  arts  and  sciences,  whose  connexion  we  have  pointed 
out,  it  is  plain,  require  for  their  cultivation  a  civilized  state  of 
society.  They  cannot  thrive  in  a  community,  which  is  not 
in  a  state  of  regular  political  organization,  under  an  orderly 
.eminent,  uniform  administration  of  Jaws,  and  a 
general  observance  of  the  dictates  of  public  and  social  morality. 
Farther,  Mich  a  community  cannot  CMM,  without  institutions  of 
various  kinds  for  elementary,  professional,  and  moral  educa- 
tion ;  and  connected  with  these,  are  required  the  services  of  a 
large  class  of  individuals,  employed  in  various  ways,  in  the 


23 

business  of  instruction ;  from  the  meritorious  schoolmaster, 
who  teaches  the  little  child  its  A,  B,  C,  to  the  moralist,  who 
lays  down  the  great  principles  of  social  duty  for  men  and  na- 
tions, and  the  minister  of  divine  truth,  who  inculcates  those 
sanctions,  by  which  God  himself  enforces  the  laws  of  reason. 
There  must  also  be  a  class  of  men  competent  by  their  ability, 
education,  and  experience  to  engage  in  the  duty  of  making  and 
administering  the  law,  for  in  a  lawless  society  it  is  impossible 
that  any  improvement  should  be  permanent.  There  must  be 
another  class  competent  to  afford  relief  to  the  sick,  and  thus 
protect  our  frail  natures,  from  the  power  of  the  numerous  foes 
that  assail  them. 

It  needs  no  words  to  show,  that  all  these  pursuits  are  in 
reality  connected  with  the  ordinary  work  of  society,  as  directly 
as  the  mechanical  trades,  by  which  it  is  carried  on. — For  in- 
stance, nothing  would  so  seriously  impair  the  prosperity  of  a 
community,  as  an  unsound  and  uncertain  administration  of  jus- 
tice. This  is  the  last  and  most  fatal  symptom  of  decline  in  a 
state.  A  community  can  bear  a  very  considerable  degree  of 
political  despotism,  if  justice  is  duly  administered  between  man 
and  man.  But  where  a  man  has  no  security,  that  the  law  will 
protect  him  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  property  ;  where  he  cannot 
promise  himself  a  righteous  judgment  in  the  event  of  a  contro- 
versy with  his  neighbor  ;  where  he  is  not  sure  when  he  lays 
down  at  night  that  his  slumbers  are  safe,  there  he  loses  the 
great  motives  to  industry  and  probity ;  credit  is  shaken  ;  en- 
terprize  disheartened,  and  the  State  declines. — The  profession, 
therefore,  which  is  devoted  to  the  administration  of  justice, 
renders  a  service  to  every  citizen  of  the  community,  as  impor- 
tant as  to  those  whose  immediate  affairs  require  the  aid  of 
counsel. 

In  a  very  improved  and  civilized  community,  there  are  also 
numerous  individuals,  who,  without  being  employed  in  any  of 
the  common  branches  of  industry  or  of  professional  pursuit, 
connect  themselves,  nevertheless,  with  the  prosperity  and  hap- 
piness of  the  public,  and  fill  a  useful  and  honorable  place  in  its 


24 

service.  Take  for  instance,  a  man  like  Sir  Walter  Scott,  who 
probably  never  did  a  day's  work,  in  his  life,  in  the  ordinary- 
acceptation  of  the  term,  and  who  has  for  some  years  retired 
from  the  subordinate  station  he  filled  in  the  profession  of  the 
law,  as  sheriff  of  the  county  and  clerk  of  the  Court.  He  has 
written  and  published  at  least  two  hundred  volumes  of  wide 
circulation.  What  a  vast  amount  of  the  industry  of  the  com- 
munity is  thereby  put  in  motion  ! — The  booksellers,  printers, 
paper-makers,  press-makers,  type-makers,  book-binders,  leath- 
er-dressers, ink-makers,  and  various  other  artisans  required 
to  print,  publish,  and  circulate  the  hundreds  and  thousands  of 
volumes,  of  the  different  works,  which  he  has  written,  must  be 
almost  numberless.  I  have  not  the  least  doubt,  that,  since  the 
series  of  his  publications  began,  if  all  whose  industry, — directly 
or  remotely, — has  been  concerned  in  them,  not  only  in  Great 
Britain,  but  in  America,  and  on  the  Continent  of  Europe, 
could  be  brought  together  and  stationed  side  by  side,  as  the 
inhabitants  of  the  same  place,  they  would  form  a  very  conside- 
rahlr-  tmrn.  Such  a  person  may  fairly  be  ranked  as  a  working 
man. 

And  yet  1  t;ike  this  to  bo  the  least  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  de- 
*erts.  I  have  <\\\{\  nothing;  of  the  service  rendered  to  every 
-  and  to  every  individual  in  every  class,  by  the  writer,  who 
beguiles  of  their  tedioiMie*s  the  dull  hours  of  life.;  who  ani- 
mates the  principle  of  goodness  within  us,  by  glowing  pictures 
of  struggling  virtue;  who  furnishes  our  young  men  Arid  wo- 
men with  Uu:k-,  which  they  may  rend  with  interest,  and  not 
their  mornls  poisoned  :is  they  rend  thorn.  Our  habits, 
our  prineiph-N,  our  elinneiers, — whatever  may  be  our  pursuit 
in  life, — depend  very  ni'irh  on  the  nnture  of  our  youthful 
pleasures,  and  on  the  modi1  in  which  we  lenrn  to  pass  our  lei- 
sure hoar  .  ho.  with  the  blessing  of  Providence,  has 
been  ;il»le  by  hi-  inentid  etinrt-.  to  present  virtue  in  her 
.  mid  vice  in  her  native  deformity,  to  the  ris- 
ing generation,  lias  rendered  a  service  to  the  public,  greater 
even  than  his,  who  invented  the  steam  engine,  or  the  mariner's 
compass. 


\  have  thus  endeavored  lo  .show,  in  a  plain  manner,  that 
there  is  a  dose  and  cordial  union  between  the  various  pursuits 
and  occupations,  which  receive  the  attention  of  men  in  a  civil- 
ised comnumitv : — That  they  are  links  of  the  same  chain, 
every  one  of  which  is  essential  to  its  strength. 

It  will  follow,  as  a  necessary  consequence ;  as  the  dictate  of 
reason  and  as  the  law  of  nature  ; — that  every  man  in  society, 
whatever  his  pursuit,  who  devotes  himself  to  it,  with  an  honest 
purpose,  and  in  the  fulfilment  of  the  social  duty  which  Provi- 
dence devolves  upon  him,  is  entitled  to  the  good  fellowship  of 
each  and  every  other  member  of  the  community.  That  all 
are  the  parts  of  one  whole ;  and  that  between  those  parts,  as 
there  is  but  one  interest,  so  there  should  be  but  one  feeling. 

Before  1  close  this  lecture,  permit  me  to  dwell  for  a  short 
time  on  the  principle,  which  I  have  had  occasion  to  advance 
above,  that  the  immortal  element  in  our  nature, — the  reasoning 
soul, — is  the  inheritance  of  all  our  race.  As  it  is  this,  which 
makes  man  superior  to  the  beasts  that  perish  ;  so  it  is  this, 
which,  in  its  moral  and  intellectual  endowments,  is  the  sole 
foundation  for  the  only  distinctions  between  man  and  man, 
which  have  any  real  value.  This  consideration  shows  the 
value  of  institutions  for  education  and  for  the  diffusion  of 
knowledge.  Jt  was  no  magic,  no  miracle,  which  made  New- 
ton, and  Franklin,  and  Fulton.  It  was  the  patient,  judicious, 
long  continued  cultivation  of  powers  of  the  understanding,  emi- 
nent no  doubt  in  degree,  but  not  differing  in  kind,  from  those 
which  are  possessed  by  every  individual  in  this  assembly. 

Let  every  one  then  reflect,  especially  every  person  not  yet 
passed  the  forming  period  of  his  life,  that  he  carries  about  in 
his  frame  as  in  a  casket,  the  most  glorious  thing,  which,  this 
side  heaven,  God  has  been  pleased  to  create,  an  intelligent 
spirit.  To  describe  its  nature,  to  enumerate  its  faculties,  to 
set  forth  what  it  has  done,  to  estimate  what  it  can  do,  would 
require  the  labor  of  a  life  devoted  to  the  history  of  Man.  It 
would  be  vain,  on  this  occasion  and  in  these  limits,  to  attempt 
it.  But  let  any  man  compare  his  own  nature  with  that  of  a 
4 


26 

plant,  of  a  brute  beast,  of  an  idiot,  of  a  savage  ;  and  then  con- 
sider that  it  is  in  mind  alone,  and  the  degree  to  which  he  im- 
proves it,  that  he  differs  essentially  from  any  of  them. 

And  let  no  one  think  he  wants  opportunity,  encouragement,  or 
means. — I  would  not  undervalue  these,  any  or  all  of  them,  but 
compared  with  what  the  man  does  for  himself,  they  are  of  little 
account.  Industry,  temperance,  and  perseverance  are  worth 
more  than  all  the  patrons,  that  ever  lived  in  all  the  Augustan 
ages.  It  is  these,  that  create  patronage  and  opportunity.  The 
cases  of  our  Franklin  and  Fulton  are  too  familiar  to  bear  repe- 
tition. Consider  diat  of  Sir  Humphrey  Davy,  who  died  last 
year,  and  who  was  in  many  departments  of  science,  the  first* 
philosopher  of  the  age.* — He  was  born  at  Penzance  in  Corn- 
wall, one  of  the  darkest  corners  of  England  ;  his  lather  was  a 
carver  of  wooden  images  for  signs,  and  figure-heads,  and  chim- 
ney pieces.  He  himself  was  apprenticed  to  an  apothecary, 
and  made  his  first  experiments  in  chemistry  with  his  master's 
phials  and  gallipots,  aided  by  an  old  syringe,  which  had  been 
•_ri\en  him,  by  the  surgeon  of  a  French  vessel,  wrecked  on  the 
LandV  Knd.  From  the  shop  of  the  apothecary,  he  was  trans- 
ferred to  the  ofiiee  of  a  surgeon  ;  and  never  appears  to  have  had 
any  other  education,  than  that  of  a  Cornish  school,  in  his  boy- 
hood. Such  was  the  beginning  of  the  career  of  the  man,  who 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  u;:-  N  lecied,  by  our  own  country- 
man. Count  Rmniord,  (hiin-clt  a  self-limirht  benefactor  of  man- 
kind,) to  fill  the  elnir  of  ( 'hetnistry  at  the  Royal  Institution,  in 
London  ;  such  wa>  tin-  origin  and  cdiu  ation  of  the  man,  \\lio 
discovered  the  mctalli-  the  alkalis  and  the  earths;  in- 

lety  lamp;  and  placed  himself,  in  a  ;  3,  in 

the  chair  of  the  Hoyal  Society  of  London,  and  at   the  hi  ad   of 
nf  Europe.      Sir  Humphrey  Davy's  most  brilliant 

ditcoreriea  \\en-  etli  <-ted,  by  bi>  skilful  application  of  the  (Jal- 

vanic  Electricity,  a  principle,  v.  ho>e  existence  had  been  de- 
lected, a  few  years  before,  by  an  Italian  philosopher,  from 

T;  .  b  »i'Sir  Himiplirry  Davy  \vlurh  follows,  to  tin-  .-ml  oftli,-  lec- 

:_;oil  I'lomthr  article  in  thf  Annual    Biography  lor  1~:!" 


27 

noticing  the  contractions  of  a  frog's  limb  suspended  on  an  iron 
hook,  a  fact  which  shows  how  near  us  in  every  direction,  the 
most  curious  facts  lie  scattered  by  nature.  With  an  apparatus, 
contrived  by  himself  to  collect  and  condense  this  powerful 
agent,  Sir  Humphrey  succeeded  in  decomposing  the  earths 
and  the  alkalis  ;  and  in  extracting  from  common  potash,  the 
metal  (before  unknown)  of  which  it  consists  ; — possessing  at 
70°  of  the  thermometer  the  lustre  and  general  appearance  of 
mercury,  at  50°,  the  appearance  of  polished  silver  and  the  soft- 
ness of  wax  ;  so  light  that  it  swims  in  water  ;  and  so  inflammable 
that  it  takes  fire,  when  thrown  on  ice. 

These  are  perhaps  but  brilliant  novelties  ;  though  connected, 
no  doubt,  in  the  great  chain  of  cause  and  effect,  with  principles 
of  art  and  science,  conducive  to  the  service  of  man.  But  the 
invention  of  the  safety  lamp,  which  enables  the  miner  to  walk  un- 
harmed through  an  atmosphere  of  explosive  gas,  and  has  already 
saved  the  lives  of  hundreds  of  human  beings,  is  a  title  to  glory 
and  the  gratitude  of  his  fellow  men,  which  the  most  renowned 
destroyer  of  his  race  might  envy. 

The  counsels  of  such  a  man,  in  his  retirement  and  medita- 
tion are  worth  listening  to.  I  am  sure  you  will  think  I  bring 
this  lecture  to  the  best  conclusion,  by  repeating  a  sentence 
from  one  of  his  moral  works  : — 

"  I  envy,  says  he,  no  quality  of  the  mind  or  intellect  in 
others  ;  not  genius,  power,  wit  or  fancy  ;  but  if  I  could  choose 
what  would  be  most  delightful,  and  I  believe  most  useful  to  me, 
I  should  prefer  A  FIRM  RELIGIOUS  BELIEF  to  every  other  bless- 
ing." 

Erratum.     Page  19,  line  3d,  for  hydrostatic  press  read  hydraulic  press. 


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